


No Strings

by fragilelittleteacup



Category: Elementary (TV), Suits (TV)
Genre: A Drabble That Ended Up Way Longer Than I Planned, Affairs, Anal Sex, Conversations, Crossover Pairings, Humor, M/M, Over-Stimulation Kink, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, harvey is a dork, why is that not a more common tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-11
Updated: 2016-11-11
Packaged: 2018-08-30 09:08:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8527267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fragilelittleteacup/pseuds/fragilelittleteacup
Summary: A policeman and a fake lawyer walk into a bar.





	1. Chapter 1

Gay bars were wonderful.

Bodies moved and swayed, flashes of skin and leather revealed under lights that flashed and changed colour, men in various states of undress dancing and grinding and kissing and grabbing; the crowd was a mass of movement and chaos, and Mike watched from the bar appreciatively. He was just glad he had gotten in. Usually, the security guards turned him away because he looked too young. Once, he’d even come dressed to the nines, in black shiny leather with his eyes done up with mascara- it really hadn’t been his thing, and it totally hadn’t been worth it, because they’d just told him to come back in a year. Utterly ridiculous. He was twenty-seven, not _seventeen._

This night, he’d turned up, tired and shitty and still in his suit, and for some reason that had been more convincing. Apparently he pulled off the sexually frustrated office worker thing well.

He’d been running around glass buildings all day, surrounded by suits and reports, all so prim and proper, Harvey yelling at him like a drill sergeant- and Harvey was great, he really was, and the banter they managed would’ve made them firm friends in another life, but it had just been so _tiring_ today. Every minute had been spent reading and remembering and retaining, and his brain just kept sucking it all in, even though his body was tired. He felt like a machine. A robot, spitting out information, speaking in laws and clauses and paragraphs. Being a copy machine was something he did well, but he kind of felt like it was draining every last bit of his soul from his body.

Harvey had cracked it and told him to take tomorrow off.

Which was why, tonight, he fully intended to get laid. And it had to be a guy. Women were great, he fucking adored women, but he hadn’t been with a man for a while and he missed it. He missed that he could be rougher, that he was more sure of himself- women could clench down on him and cry out to their heart’s content, and they could’ve been faking it just to be polite (he knew his sexual prowess wasn’t exactly monumental). But with men, he knew whether they liked it or not. It was reassuring.

But, now that he _was_ here… Well. How did he pick someone up? He wasn’t quite game enough to go dance, because that would surely scare off anyone with any semblance of sanity, and everyone seemed rather preoccupied. And anyone who came to the bar was with someone, or getting drinks for their friends.

Mike sighed and took a swing of his beer. He’d come here with Trevor a few times. It was much nicer without him- as was life, generally- but he was less sure of himself. Trevor had been suave and confident, used to the place, had Mike on his arm like a trophy. Mike by himself was obviously new to all of this, and he was realising that probably everyone in the room knew it.

He hung his head, and downed the rest of his beer. Just as he’d made up his mind to leave, maybe go to a normal bar and pick up a lady, a hand landed on his forearm.

“Slow down, kid.”

He lowered the beer to the bar, eyebrows raised. “’Kid’? Really?”

The guy was _hot-_ and he was smiling. Mike felt a thrill of victory as he realised this could finally be what he was looking for. He looked him up and down- dark skin, extremely well-built, in a tight t-shirt and jeans. He’d never seen anyone more fuckable in his life.

The stranger laughed. “Sorry. You just look young.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m told I’m really very pretty.”

He laughed again. Mike thanked God for his highly-developed sarcasm.

“Name’s Marcus Bell.” He said.

Mike nodded. “Mike Ross.”

“You wanna get out of here?”

No beating about the bush. Mike grinned.

“Hell yeah.”

 

 

***

 

Mike had kind of expected Marcus to jump on him the second the motel door was closed, but Marcus just turned to him and smiled, natural and easy and friendly. He began to shrug off his jacket, and Mike- who had been about to say something- forgot everything except Marcus’ _extremely_ well-toned upper body.

“You’re allowed to touch me, y’know.” Marcus laughed, tossing his jacket to the side.

Mike reached out a hand, slid his palm down Marcus’ side, down the curve of his slim waist. “Christ.” He breathed. “You’re…”

“Mm.” Marcus stepped forward, still chuckling under his breath. It was a low, throaty sound. His fingers found Mike’s tie, began undoing it. “So are you.”

Mike reached out both hands, heart hammering as he pushed aside fabric and found the hard muscles of Marcus’ abdomen. He’d forgotten what it was like, a one-night stand. The room was so quiet. He couldn’t stand it, this weird de-personalised intimacy, so- trying to ignore the fact he was with a complete stranger- he kissed Marcus. Hard and deep, catching him off guard, moving forward until there was no space between them. Marcus didn’t make a surprised noise, didn’t whimper or jump; he just pushed back, hands finding Mike’s waist and back, strong and warm.

They kept kissing then, and words were abandoned. By the time they made it to the bedroom, their shirts and shoes were gone, and Mike’s heart was in his mouth. He hadn’t done this in so long. He was standing before Marcus with a hot burn of embarrassment heating his cheeks; he hadn’t been naked in front of someone for a long time. He didn’t work out, as a rule, because he hated it, and relied on a high metabolic rate to carry him through. He was white, thin, and- in his mind- probably reminiscent of a gangly teenager, especially when standing next to a man as perfect as Marcus.

“Hey.” Marcus said softly. One of his hands was on Mike’s neck, the other on the small of his back. “You’re gorgeous.”

Mike’s blush grew. “Are you making fun of me?”

Marcus smiled, lustful and gentle at the same time. “Nah.”

Mike grinned, embarrassed but relieved, and kissed him. Skin on skin was a feeling Mike had missed- it was so warm, so soft, so _intimate._

“Condoms?” Mike gasped against Marcus’ mouth.

Marcus went still. “…Oh, shit.”

Mike leaned back. He raised his eyebrows. “Seriously?”

“I forgot.” Marcus admitted guiltily. “I haven’t done this in a while… goddamn. I’ll go buy some.”

“Hey, hey, I forgot them too.” Mike pulled him back when he went to leave. “D’you want to… I mean, _I’m_ clean, and… I don’t know, you seem like an honest guy. Are you clean?”

Marcus made an exasperated expression. “You want to risk that?”

“You’re a cop, you can tell I’m not lying. And I watch people lie for a living, I know bullshit when I see it. Are you clean?”

“…Yeah.” Marcus said reluctantly.

Mike grinned. “See? No problem.”

“You seem… unusually happy about this.”

“This is a stupid conversation to be having while we’re both about to have sex. Let’s just-”

“I think I should go buy some.” Marcus turned to leave, doing up his fly.

“I want you to fill me up.” Mike blurted out, louder than he probably should’ve.

Marcus turned back slowly.

“I mean… uh. Shit. Um.” He was acting like a high school virgin. This was ridiculous. But fuck, he’d never said it _aloud_ before. “I… Yeah. I would… like. That.”

Marcus considered him for a few moments. “Anythin’ else I should know about?”

“Uh. Maybe, if you could… keep going? After I’ve… y’know. Come. That would be.” Mike cleared his throat. Oh god. What was he doing. He didn’t even _know_ this guy. “You know, maybe this isn’t a good idea, I should just go-”

“No. No, I think you should stay. Reckon I can,” He reached down, touched Mike, “, give you what you want.”

Mike breathed hard. “And- And what do you want?”

Marcus paused. He went still, eyes flicking downwards for a moment. He smirked, his gorgeous expression slightly too roguish and lustful to appear charming.

“I wanna give you what you want. And, if I’m gonna keep going after you’ve already come, you’re gonna need a safeword.”

Right. Back to business. “Red.”

Marcus laughed, as if that was funny somehow, like some kind of rookie safeword. “Promise you’ll use it, if you need to?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s a serious question.”

“I know, I know. I promise.”

 

***

 

Marcus gave him what he wanted.

It didn’t feel like fucking, not at first- it felt, ridiculous as it sounded, like making love. It was slow, gentle, Marcus pressing into him gradually and savouring every small gasp Mike made. He kept asking whether Mike was okay, whether it was good, whether he wanted to stop.

Mike started out riding him, but ended up on his back, encircled in a warm embrace, whimpering against a silky mouth. Marcus kissed Mike’s neck as he moved in him, rolling his hips forwards and backwards, a constant movement. The warmth built in Mike, until he was moaning, until he was saying, “I’m- fuck, shit, I’m, I’m going to-”, and Marcus was hushing him, wrapping his arms around him, pressing deep in him as Mike came with a slow, sweeping orgasm that had him floating in a weightless bliss.

Then, there was stillness.

“Do you,” Marcus asked. “Do you still want…?”

“Yeah.” Mike whispered. He was gazing, open-mouthed at the ceiling. He’d never been more turned on, more alive, in his whole life. “Yeah, I do.”

Marcus moved slowly, carefully, and Mike's eyelids fluttered.

“Come on.” He breathed. “Come on, fuck me. Fuck me hard. I know my safeword. I’ll use it if I have to. I promise. Just fuck me. Please. Fuck me.”

Marcus did.

It wasn’t as hard as Mike expected, or as fast, but that was probably a good thing because Mike was out of practice, at relaxing into it, at letting himself just loosen up and let the intensity move, flow, through him. But he enjoyed it regardless- enjoyed the overstimulation that had come at the end of weeks- _months-_ of nights spent either working or passed out from exhaustion. He- somewhat egotistically- enjoyed lying back, arms above his head, letting his eyes flutter, loving that Marcus watching him, loving that whenever he made a desperate noise or arched off the bed, Marcus would fuck him harder or faster, gripping his hips, running his hands down Mike’s abdomen.

“God,” Marcus breathed. “You’re perfect.”

Mike blushed.

He loved being seen like this, while being fucked like this. Being the absolute centre of this beautiful man’s attention, being on display, being _seen_.

Marcus didn’t last much longer. When he came, it was inside Mike, just like he’d asked, and it was more perfect than Mike remembered. The warmth inside him. The feeling of being owned. He let his head loll to the side, eyes falling shut, mouth opening in a gasp as Marcus panted, still inside him. He wished he’d been game enough to ask Marcus to call him a slut. He’d never actually had anyone fulfil that fantasy before.

Marcus pulled out, and Mike whimpered.

“You okay?” Marcus demanded softly, still breathing hard. “Mike?”

“Yeah.” Mike kept his eyes closed. The stimulation had drained him. He wanted to sleep for a week; he knew this would hurt tomorrow.

“You sure?” Marcus sounded concerned. “You wanna shower?”

Mike shook his head.

Marcus paused, as if deliberating, and then lay down. Mike was surprised when Marcus pulled him into a comforting embrace, a closeness Mike hadn’t realised he’d needed. He’d never done cuddles before, with men. That had always seemed to be a thing more for women.

Silence fell, but Mike was asleep.

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few months later...

Mike preferred not to sleep with men, generally speaking, because most of them seemed to have an aversion to a comfortable level of affection after the fact- and yes, he would unashamedly admit that cuddling was one of his favourite post-sex pastimes. Most women, he’d found, would curl against him, they’d laugh, and it would be relaxed and fun and enjoyable. Comparatively, so many men finished, lit up a cigarette, and smoked until the silence was unbearable. Often, Mike couldn’t get so much as a _kiss_ out of them. Sometimes he’d get them high just to make them fucking relax.

Marcus wasn’t like that.

He was funny, charming, and he’d hold Mike afterwards if Mike was in the mood for that sort of thing. He had a sense of humour that bounced perfectly off Mike’s, and they’d talk about nothing for hours. Then, there was the sex. It was spectacular- straightforward and relatively un-kinky, but _spectacular._ Mike liked how Marcus’ hands were hard and strong when they needed to be, but how he knew when to back off, to be gentle, to take it slower. He was so glad he’d finally found a guy who didn’t just rut like a bull. He liked that Marcus was unopposed to either bottoming or topping, he liked the way Marcus’ dark skin looked under his fingers, he liked Marcus’ laugh, he liked everything about him. And, best of all, he liked that he didn’t _love_ him. Because he’d come close to loving Rachel, and that had been such a disaster that he’d nearly ended up confessing to her that he was a fraud who’d never been to Harvard- Marcus was just someone he was having an affair with, and they were both okay with that.

It was utterly and completely perfect.

Which was funny. Because Mike had never really gotten along with most policemen.

On this night they’d shared a few beers- the bottles of which now sat empty on Mike’s coffee table- and watched a few hours of sport before getting down to the fucking. He liked that they could hang out as friends. It was nice, and it felt really goddamn healthy, since Trevor.

Now they were lying in bed, Marcus’ arm cradling him loosely, both panting quietly. He never smoked around Marcus, nicotine or otherwise. He didn’t want this to end because of marijuana.

“’Ey,” Marcus began, frowning at the ceiling. “The other day, when you were sayin’ stuff you’d memorised from books…”

“Yeah?”

“How d’you do it? ‘Cause I looked the books up, and you got it all right. I’d almost say you got it word-for-word.”

“I have an eidetic memory.”

Marcus grinned at him. “No shit?”

“No shit, yeah. Give me something to read, I’ll remember it.”

“Bet that helps with bein’ a lawyer, huh?”

“Yeah.” Mike snorted. “But being a lawyer in New York means you’re toe-to-toe with people who aren’t anything _except_ lawyers, so it’s not like I’m on top of the game or anything.”

“Huh.” Marcus absent-mindedly stroked his shoulder. “Yeah, ‘spose, so.”

Mike lifted his head, frowning. “You seem distracted.”

Marcus sighed. “I told you I’m a cop, yeah?”

“Yeah…”

“I have this friend. Well, two friends-”

“Congratulations.”

Marcus raised an eyebrow, with a glare and a smirk. “Ha, ha. Anyway, they’re consultants for the NYPD, and they have consultants of their own. You know, people who can,” He gestured, trying to articulate his meaning; with a huff, he let his hand fall onto his stomach. “Special people. People like you.”

Mike frowned. “Wait… consultants?” His eyes widened. “Do you mean-”

“Holmes and Watson.”

“Oh my god.”

Marcus smiled dryly, and Mike got the feeling he was used to this reaction. “You’re familiar?”

“You’re _friends_ with _the_ Sherlock Holmes?” Mike’s mind spun. He’d only heard of Sherlock Holmes through legend- the man was a genius, and his unique career stretched worldwide, notably to London, where it was rumoured that he was the reason for the success of a cop named Lestrade, who’d been taking credit for his work- and _everyone_ knew about the infamous Moriarty and his serial killing accomplice M, both of whom had been defeated by Holmes and his superior intellect. There were years of speculation and rumours that formed the legend, but Mike didn’t even know what the man _looked like._

Marcus rolled his eyes. “Don’ tell ‘im you’re a fan, he doesn’t need another ego boost.”

“Oh my god, this- this is _huge_ , Marcus!”

“Well-”

“How’d you meet him?”

“I work with him.”

“You- Oh my god, you _work with him?”_

Marcus looked apprehensively amused. “Is now a good time to tell you I’m living with ‘im at the moment?”

“Oh my god.” Mike stared. “I’m sleeping with someone who lives in the same house as _Sherlock Holmes.”_

“Now I feel undervalued.”

“He wants _me?”_

“I told ‘im ‘bout you. He’s interested. Gotta say, though, Watson’s just as impressive as him. Prob’ly more, actually.”

“Jesus.” Mike sat up, blinking. “Wow.”

Marcus shifted so that he was lying on his side, propped up in his elbow. Mike genuinely envied Marcus’ physique. It hardly seemed fair that someone should look so _good._

“Should I tell ‘im you’re interested?”

“Wh- _Yes!”_

Marcus chuckled. “Gotta warn you, he’s pretty weird.”

Mike gestured wildly, eyes open wide with disbelief. “Does it look like I _care?”_

“Thought you might want a heads-up, that’s all…” Marcus voice trailed off, and he frowned as the sound of insistent knocking pierced the apartment. “You got a visitor?”

Mike checked the clock on the bedside table and threw his head back, groaning. “It’s my boss. I know it is. Fucking hell.”

“It’s _midnight.”_ Marcus commented disbelievingly.

“Yeah, well,” Mike grumbled as he got out of bed, leaning down to grab a pair of shorts. “Lawyers don’t sleep. And the great Harvey Spectre is a lawyer through and through.”

The knocking sounded again, louder, this time accompanied by a shout of, ‘Mike!’ that was unmistakably Harvey’s voice.

“Well, you’ll be a perfect candidate to help Holmes out, if you’re used to midnight calls.”

Mike pulled on his shorts, and stumbled ungracefully off. “Back in a sec.”

He crossed his apartment, a spring in his step- god, the excitement wouldn’t be out of his system for _days._ As he opened the door to Harvey, he considered for a moment that Marcus might’ve been lying, just to mess with his head- but Mike figured he’d been around enough liars by now to sense that he’d been telling the truth. And Marcus genuinely seemed like a good person. Man. What a night. Mind-blowing sex with a friend and a good guy, and then the opportunity of a lifetime.

He did a double-take; Harvey was wearing a v-necked shirt and… _jeans._ Mike took a moment to stare.

“Something wrong?”

“You’re in _denim._ Has someone died? Did you loose a bet? Oh- I know. Donna. She made you wear them.”

Harvey glared at him, as if he wasn’t the one who had so rudely turned up at his doorstep in the middle of the night, and Mike was somehow in the wrong. “We have an emergency.”

Mike groaned and leaned his head against the doorframe. “Of course we do. Merger won’t go through, right?”

“Right.” Harvey began to step forward into the apartment, then paused, looking him up and down without even an ounce of subtlety. “You’re half naked.”

“I’m _more_ than half naked, thank you very much.”

Harvey’s trademark smartass grin began to slowly dominate his face. “Am I,” He gestured innocently. “Am I interrupting something here?”

“Uh, _yeah.”_

“Well, how about that, rookie!” He slid his hands into his pockets, still beaming. “What’s she like? Blonde? Brunette? Redhead? Is she _feisty?_ ”

“You’ll find out in fifteen minutes, after I shower.” Mike closed the door on Harvey’s stupid face, ignoring the, “You’ve got _ten_ minutes!” remark. When he turned around, Marcus was emerging from the bedroom, already mostly dressed, aside from his shoes.

“He sounds like an asshole.”

“He _is_ an asshole.” Mike sighed. So much for further discussion of his prospective future solving crimes alongside New York’s greatest British detective. “You want a shower before you go?”

“I thought the asshole said only ten minutes?”

Mike grinned and walked to him, kissing him hard on the mouth. He had to bend down a little. It was a tad awkward, but Marcus’ hands landed on his waist and he didn’t really mind.

“Thankfully,” He grinned against Marcus’ mouth. “I’m an asshole too.”

 

***

 

Harvey let out a huff of annoyance. It’d been twenty-five minutes.

But, while waiting was never something he was good at, he did have to admit he was curious to see what kind of girl Mike had up in his apartment. Mike had been having a fling with Rachel that had been on-and-off, and had generally caused misery and problems the numerous times it had failed, and then there’d been that blondie who’d been with that asshole Trevor. Harvey honestly couldn’t understand it; from what he’d seen, Mike seemed incapable of having sex for the sake of sex. He always seemed to want a _relationship._

Harvey sighed again, even though there was no one to witness how pissed-off he was, and glared at his watch.

Twenty- _six_ minutes.

Just as he was about to turn around and hammer on the door, it opened- expecting to see Mike, a scathing reproach rose to his lips. It vanished the second he realised it wasn’t Mike that was exiting the apartment.

It was a _guy._

A muscular, dark-skinned, quite attractive guy who obviously had just gotten out of the shower. He stopped walking when he realised Harvey was blatantly staring at him.

The awkward silence lasted several seconds. Eventually, the man spoke, one eyebrow raised; “Can I help you?”

Harvey smiled quizzically and pointed at the apartment. “Is there a woman in there, per chance? Aside from Mike, I mean.”

The guy laughed shortly. “No.”

Harvey nodded slowly, and held out a hand. “Harvey Specter.”

After a pause, the man shook his hand briskly. “Detective Marcus Bell.” With a nod, he let go of Harvey’s hand and continued on down the hallway. Harvey stared after him with unconcealed amazement, until he disappeared around a corner, by which stage Mike had emerged from his apartment, dressed in a plain blue t-shirt and grey jeans.

“A _cop?”_

“Yeah.” Mike was locking his door, though Harvey couldn’t really see the point when the lock was obviously flimsy as any lock could be. He was genuinely stupefied by the fact that Mike worked at Pearson Hardman and still lived in this shithole. “So?”

 _“So?”_ Harvey stepped closer, lowering his voice in case the detective was still within earshot. The halls were mostly silent, after all, at this time of night. “Is he aware you’re practicing law _illegally?”_

Mike laughed.

“I really hope that means, ‘no’.”

“It does.”

Harvey nodded, pursing his lips and Mike pocketed his keys.

“I didn’t know you were-”

“It’s irrelevant.” Mike said quickly.

Harvey nodded again. “Hm. Okay.”

Mike turned to him, glaring. “ _What?”_

It was a cruel joke to play, but Harvey was going to do it anyway, because it was frankly irresistible, and he was an asshole. “Well… Isn’t it…” He drew it out, watching panic form on Mike’s features. “…isn’t it hard?”

“What?” Mike’s voice was steely, and his eyes were flat. “Being bisexual?”

“No, no.” He kept his tone suspiciously airy, and he could see Mike growing more and more annoyed.” It’s just…”

“It’s just _what,_ Harvey?”

“Well,” Harvey shrugged. “He’s so _short.”_

Mike stood in stunned silence for a moment before he caught on, and then relief and annoyance overpowered his features. He shoved Harvey’s shoulder lightly and started walking down the hallway. Laughing, Harvey followed.

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Harvey sat in the car, staring out the window at the Brownstone building; he looked down at the address in his hands, frowning at the paper, then looking out once again and considering the large wooden door. He wasn’t sure what it was, but the mention of NYPD consultants rang a bell in his mind.

He sighed heavily, impatiently, checked his watch. Five forty five minutes to six.

“You must really like this kid.” Ray mused from the front seat, nodding along to slow saxophone.

“Why’s that, Ray?” Harvey replied shortly.

Ray gestured with a laugh, and Harvey could see the corner of his smile- his wide, honest smile, half the reason Harvey had picked him as a driver.

“Since when does the great Harvey Specter _wait_ for someone?”

“Are you mocking me?”

He laughed again. “I’m just impressed.”

Harvey sighed and got out of the car, turning to give Ray a dry glare as he closed the door behind him. Ray gave him the thumbs up.

He did up his jacket as he walked up the stairs to the Brownstone entrance. He considered the architecture around him; this was an expensive place to live in, even if he shuddered privately at the overwhelming presence of stone and wood. An old dwelling. He preferred glass, steel, and city lights.

He had just raised his hand to knock on the door, when it was opened. By one of the most magnificent women Harvey had ever seen.

She was Asian, with sharp cheekbones but smooth cheeks, peppered with the faintest freckles, her shimmering black hair pulled back into a platted bun. But it was her smile that really got him. It was utterly breathtaking- but, more than that, it was _intelligent._

“You must be Harvey, lovely to meet you.” She opened the door wider for him.

“Wonderful to meet you too.” He smiled widely as he walked inside. He was greeted with a large, open area, a staircase to his left, two doorways in view. Definitely an expensive home. “Do you have cameras outside?”

“No. Well- we do. But,” She closed the door behind them. She was wearing skinny jeans, a loose navy blue shirt, and high heels that were surely at least seven inches, but didn’t have her anywhere near as tall as him. “, I knew you’d be early. You’re a lawyer, after all.” She turned back to him, still smiling, and Harvey did a double take; he laughed.

She stilted her head a little, smile flickering. He realised her eyes were utterly black. “Is something wrong?”

“No, I just,” He gestured apologetically. “How does _Mike Ross_ come to know a woman as beautiful as you?”

She laughed shortly. Winning women over was effortless for him, but he felt like her laugh was complimented, but guarded. He had been right. She was intelligent.

“I’m a consultant for the NYPD.” She said as she began to walk away. Harvey assumed he was supposed to follow, so he did, taking a look around as the passed they staircase. He saw into a room that served as a library, books stacked to the ceiling, a fireplace hidden behind a grate, two chairs sitting before it. “Mike helped us in a case recently, and we found his expertise to be very useful.”

“’We’?”

“My partner and I.”

He stopped. She turned back and looked at him with raised eyebrows.

“Wait, you’re…” He held out a hand, palm open. “You’re Miss Watson. You’re with Sherlock Holmes.”

She smiled again- this time, he almost felt as he were being mocked.

“Do you have a problem with that?”

He let out a burst of laughter. God. He’d known she was intelligent, but this was something else. There wasn’t a lawyer in New York who didn’t know her, or her partner’s name. If only Mike had mentioned they were the people he was helping, Harvey could’ve yelled some sense into him sooner rather than later. Truthfully, Harvey though they were bloody good at what they did- especially Watson. Holmes might’ve been a freak of some repute, but Watson wasn’t. And she was just as good as her partner, despite being _normal_. They closed more cases than freelance detectives should’ve been able to, and made headlines more than was healthy for anyone trying to make money out of misery. Almost every law firm in the country had approached them in an attempt to secure their consulting services- including Pearson Hardman.

He smoothed down the front of his suit, trying to keep exasperation out of his grin. He was going to need to make this situation clear to Mike.

“Respectfully, Miss Watson- as a lawyer, who has worked extremely hard to get where I am, I both resent and admire the fact that you two steal my clients.”

“I assure you we’re not trying to steal your clients specifically.”

She turned away, and he stared after her. After an amazed second, he followed.

No woman had ever treated him like this before. It was humbling.

And awesome.

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

Harvey stepped out of his car, chin held high, a deep breath filling his lungs. He wasn’t ever really a true optimist, but he felt like today would be a good day. Any day beginning with shower sex had to have some merit.

As he closed the door behind him, he recognised Mike out of the corner of his eye; the young associate was walking towards him, but he wasn’t alone.

His companion was a well-dressed man, looking unmistakably _un-American,_ wearing a long coat and a scarf. He had an angular, European face, and gloved hands that he was gesturing patiently with as he spoke. Mike was grinning, and Harvey smirked with amused confusion; that was an expression he’d only seen on Mike’s face when he was faced with large and difficult masses of work that he had to memorise. A challenge. This man was… holding his interest. Which was weird because, as far as Harvey knew, only really hot women did that to Mike- and men. He kept forgetting that Mike was apparently into guys.

Suddenly, however, Mike stopped walking; he looked his feet for a few moments, his (probably English) friend stopping to look back at him. Mike looked up then, alarmed, and Harvey’s entertained smile faded as he realised Mike’s expression was in response to something the stranger had said.

The man patted Mike on the shoulder, said something briefly, and- to Harvey’s shock- turned and gestured right at him. He smiled briefly, meeting Harvey’s eyes, and then walked off in the other direction. His shoulder brushed against Mike, scarf waving as if in goodbye. Mike stood there, obviously dumbfounded, and swallowed visibly. Harvey strode over.

“What the hell was that?”

Mike blinked. “Should’ve known he’d figure it out.”

“Figure _what_ out? Mike? Who was that?”

“Um.” Mike scratched his neck. “No one. A friend. Sort of. He sort of just worked out that I’m not a real lawyer?”

Harvey stared, hoping Mike had made a joke, but no laugh or light-hearted smile was forthcoming.

“ _What?”_

“It’s fine! He was impressed! And he’s weird, so it’s not something that’ll bother him-”

“It’s ‘fine’?!”

“It is!”

“Excuse me, gentlemen?”

They both jumped as the man reappeared. He held out his hand, which was wrapped snugly in leather gloves.

“I am to assume you’re Harvey Specter?” He asked briskly, brown eyes narrowed and clever.

Harvey hesitated, glaring shortly at Mike, before shaking the offered hand. “I’m afraid you have me at a loss. We’ve never been introduced.”

“Sherlock Holmes.”

Harvey paused, and then let go of Mr Holmes’ hand slowly.

“The other NYPD consultant.” He forced a smile onto his face, noticing Nike squirming next to him. Oh, the conversations they were going to have after this.

“Indeed. You’ve already met my partner, Miss Watson- is something the matter, Mr Specter?”

Harvey’s smile grew wider, which was not proportionate to his feelings regarding this situation. “Oh, nothing. I just heard that you,” He gestured, frowning exaggeratedly. “, what was it you call it? Oh, that’s right- I heard you _deduced_ my partner’s position regards his qualifications in law.” He slid his hands into his pockets, watching with barely-concealed annoyance as Mr Holmes’ mouth tilted into an amused smile.

“Oh, yes. Quite impressive, really, that he should have gotten away with it so far. I could assist, you know- provide you with a certificate of graduation from the college of your choice.”

Mike spoke up for the first time during the conversation, frowning, “You’d do that?”

“Anything to laugh in the face of bureaucratic law firms, who make money out the misery and misfortune of commonfolk who have neither the means nor the money to fight legal battles to the just end they deserve. I do hope you have a good day, Michael- and you too, Mr Specter.”

With that, and a dramatic shit-eating grin, he was gone.

Harvey turned slowly towards Mike.

“Listen, I know I said I wouldn’t go back to them, but-”

“But you _did.”_

“He’s the only one who can challenge me!” Mike exploded, throwing out his arms. “He’s the only intellectual equal that I-”

“Oh, what, working for one of the _top three_ law firms in the city isn’t hard enough for you?” Harvey hissed. “And keep your godddamn voice down, would you?”

Mike dropped  his arms, scowling. “It’s my life, and it’s outside the firm, Harvey.” He pointed dramatically. “I’ll do what I want.”

Harvey glared, irritated by the reasonability of that argument.

Mike, triumphant, walked away. Harvey glowered after him, before following.

 

 

 

 


End file.
